Tag: music

A Powerful Founders Day in Metlakatla, Alaska

“The Power, Pride, and Healing of Founders Day”

There are days that simply pass by, and then there are days that etch themselves into your soul. Yesterday was one of those days here in Metlakatla, Alaska—a celebration of our roots, our people, and the heartbeat of our culture. Founders Day wasn’t just an event; it was a living reminder of where we come from, and a powerful glimpse of who we are.

Yesterday was Founders Day here in my hometown of Metlakatla, Alaska, and the history behind it all is truly amazing. This annual celebration honors our beginnings, and yesterday’s events were nothing short of honorable, heartfelt, and unforgettable.

Last evening, the Git Leeksa AKS – People of the Rising Tide – hosted an event at the Town Hall, where the 4th Generation Dancers also performed. The songs sung and the dances shared carried a weight of tradition and pride that could be felt deep in the soul.

When the People of the Rising Tide began their final series of songs, the drumbeats and voices shook the very walls of the building—and they shook me just as deeply. I could do nothing but smile, even as tears streamed down my face. The power of that moment, the connection to culture and history, was overwhelming in the best way.

Mr. David Boxley spoke from his heart, delivering words filled with wisdom, truth, and healing. It was all good medicine—something our spirits needed.

Last night was the perfect ending to August 7th, a day of remembrance, celebration, and community in this incredible place I am proud to call home: Metlakatla, Alaska.

As the last drumbeats faded into the night, I walked away carrying more than just memories—I carried a renewed sense of pride, connection, and gratitude for this place and its people. Founders Day is not only about honoring the past; it’s about keeping our culture alive in the present and passing its heartbeat on to the future. In Metlakatla, that heartbeat is strong, and last night, it was felt by every soul in the room.

0

A Moment to Freewrite: The Beat of Our Culture

“Our stories were never lost—just waiting to be revived. Last night, the drumbeat echoed through the Longhouse, and with it, the spirit of our people.”
— Notes by Alex

Last night, I was moved in a way that’s hard to put into words—but I’ll try.

I’m just taking a moment to freewrite, letting my thoughts flow and my fingers type as they wish. Sometimes, we need that—a space to just be and create without boundaries. Last evening, we gathered at the Longhouse as two of our local dance groups performed: People of the Rising Tide and the 4th Generation Dancers. They danced and sang for a group visiting our community, and what they shared was nothing short of beautiful.

There’s something powerful—unshakably powerful—about watching young people commit so fully to something so meaningful. You can see the dedication in their movements, feel the conviction in their voices. And then there’s the drumbeat—steady, sacred, and alive. It resonates deep in your chest, almost like your heartbeat syncing with something ancient.

Some songs bring tears to my eyes. They’re sung in our Native language—words that carry more than just meaning. They carry memory, identity, history. They carry us.

The storytelling through song and dance is incredible. And what strikes me the most is that when I was growing up here, much of this wasn’t around. These traditions had been set aside… not lost, not forgotten—but buried beneath years of silence. Now, a new generation is unearthing them. Reviving them. Living them. It’s beautiful.

It gives me hope. It gives me pride.

My prayer is that this revival continues, that the stories keep being told, that the songs keep being sung, and that our dances keep shaking the ground beneath our feet. So that generation after generation can share in this sacred gift.

Let the drums echo. Let the stories live on.

— Alex

0

“The Blanket, The Dream, and the Song”

By Alex Atkinson Jr.

There are moments in life that are too exact, too timely, too profound to be coincidence. I want to share one of those moments with you—an experience that has stayed with me for years and still stirs something deep in my spirit.

I was living in California at the time. One night, before our regular home group meeting, I had a vivid dream—so vivid it woke me up and lingered in my thoughts the next morning. In the dream, a man stood before our group, speaking. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I saw him clearly. He called me forward and “protocoled” me—something I wasn’t raised with or fully understood at the time. In the dream, he draped a large wool blanket over my shoulders, one with Native designs, vibrant and heavy with meaning. As he placed it on me, he spoke of how the Creator had called me to lead our people. Then, just like that, the dream faded.

I woke up thinking, What was that?

The next morning, I arrived at the house for our meeting. People were getting the coffee and donuts ready—everything smelled like breakfast and fellowship. As I walked in, I noticed a man behind the counter. I’d never met him before. But when our eyes met, we both froze for a second.

“I know you,” he said.

“I know you too,” I replied. “You were in my dream last night.”

We both laughed, a little startled, a little amazed. His name was Reesey. We sat down, and he began sharing about his journey—how he had been learning about Native American culture, about honor, land, music, and story. And just like in my dream, he stood up, spoke to the group, called me forward, and protocoled me. He reached into his bag, pulled out a Native American wool blanket, and draped it over my shoulders.

He spoke about the calling our Creator had placed on my life, calling forth things that had been buried, dormant—things that were waiting to awaken.

I was wrecked. In the best way. It was one of those moments you don’t forget, that marks you for life.

Then Reesey shared another story—one that shook me even more.

He told us about a group of First Nations people from the Pacific Northwest who had traveled with a woman named Linda Prince to British Columbia, and then all the way to Jerusalem. They sought permission to sing and honor the land and its leaders at the Western Wall. With permission granted, they approached the wall in full regalia, singing the songs of our people—the drum echoing through the holy site.

As they sang, the rabbis came out, visibly moved.

“Why are you singing the songs of our people?” they asked.

“These are the songs of our people,” the leaders replied. “Songs buried for generations. We believe now is the time to bring them back.”

The rabbis, stunned, responded, “You don’t understand. You’re singing in ancient high Hebrew. These are songs of worship given by the Creator.”

Let that sink in.

The rabbis told them: You might be the lost tribe of Israel.

How do you explain that?

You don’t. Not with logic, anyway. Only the Creator could orchestrate something so layered, mysterious, and beautiful.

That story has stayed with me just as much as my dream about Reesey. It awakened something in me—something ancestral, something holy, something deeply tied to identity, purpose, and land.

I believe these songs, these stories, these blankets of calling are rising again. And I believe our Creator is on the move.

“The songs of our people are being awakened again.”
—Alex Atkinson Jr.

0

Time Marches On

Embracing the Past, Navigating the Present, and Looking Forward: A Journey Through Time in Metlakatla

In the quiet town of Metlakatla, nestled in the stunning wilderness of southeast Alaska, time seemed to move at a gentler pace. Yet, even here, the unrelenting march of time was evident in every nook and cranny. Olivia, a resident of Metlakatla for over six decades, often reflected on this unstoppable force.

When Olivia was a child, Metlakatla was a tapestry of vibrant fields and bustling markets. The old clock tower, standing tall in the town square, chimed every hour, a constant reminder that moments were fleeting. As a young girl, Olivia marveled at the world around her, unaware that the seasons of her life would turn just as predictably as the Earth orbited the sun.

Decades passed, and the once familiar sights of her youth began to transform. The wooden bridge she used to cross on her way to school was replaced with a sturdy steel structure. The small bakery on Elm Street, where the sweet scent of freshly baked bread once wafted through the air, had become a modern café, its charm altered but not entirely lost. In these changes, Olivia saw a reflection of her own life. She aged, her youthful energy giving way to a more measured grace.

Time had touched Olivia gently, painting her hair with strokes of silver and etching fine lines around her eyes. She felt the evidence of aging in her bones, and saw it in the mirror, yet there was an ageless spirit within her that often took her by surprise. Despite the years that had passed, she frequently found herself feeling like the same inquisitive girl who had once roamed the meadows with wide-eyed wonder.

As she walked through Metlakatla, now accompanied by her grandchildren, Olivia realized that while everything around her had evolved, the essence of those things remained the same. The fields were still green, though perhaps more cultivated, and the markets still bustled, though with different faces. The constants in life had merely taken on new forms, much like herself.

“How do we handle the fact that time marches on, with or without us?” Olivia pondered aloud one day while sitting on a park bench, watching her grandchildren play. She concluded that accepting the passage of time meant embracing change while cherishing the core of what remains timeless. It was about acknowledging the beauty in growth and the value of memories.

In the end, Olivia found peace in the understanding that time’s march was a journey, not just for her but for everything and everyone around her. She carried the past with her, not as a burden but as a treasured companion, helping her navigate the present and look forward to the future, one step at a time.

0

Songs of Unity: The Healing Power of Tsimpsean Melodies in Metlakatla

Honoring Our Ancestors and Building a Future of Strength and Unity

In the heart of Metlakatla, where the waves kiss the rocky shores and the ancient trees stand tall, the air is often filled with the melodies of our Tsimpsean people. These songs, handed down through generations, are more than just music—they are the heartbeat of our community, the medicine for our souls.

Each note, each rhythm carries the wisdom and strength of our ancestors. When we sing, we are not just making music; we are invoking the spirits of those who came before us. Their voices resonate through ours, reminding us of their resilience, their love, and their unbreakable bond with the land and each other.

In times of joy and sorrow, we turn to our songs. They are our comfort, our guide, and our connection to the past. When the community gathers, whether for celebration or healing, the power of these songs is palpable. It’s as if the very essence of our ancestors infuses the air, bringing clarity of vision and a profound sense of purpose.

Our ancestors understood the power of unity. They knew that together, we could overcome any obstacle. This wisdom is embedded in our songs, reminding us that we are stronger when we stand together. The harmonies we create reflect the harmony we strive for in our lives—a balance of strength, compassion, and mutual respect.

As we sing, we remember that our tribe, our people, our community, need each other. Each voice adds to the collective strength, each song a reminder that we are not alone. This interconnectedness is our foundation. It empowers us to move forward, to create a positive impact on those around us and everyone we encounter.

Our songs are more than mere melodies; they are declarations of our identity, our history, and our aspirations. They tell the stories of our struggles and triumphs, our hopes and dreams. Through these songs, we honor our past, embrace our present, and inspire our future.

In Metlakatla, the songs of the Tsimpsean people are a testament to our enduring spirit. They are the medicine that heals, the vision that guides, and the strength that sustains us. Together, as one voice, we sing of our shared journey and our unwavering belief in the power of community.

With every song, we reaffirm our commitment to each other and our resolve to move forward, hand in hand, creating a legacy of love, peace, and hope for generations to come.

0

The Harp in My Heart: A Song to My Creator

Finding Comfort and Connection Through Divine Melodies

In the quiet moments of my life, music has always been a sanctuary. It’s as if there’s a harp in my heart, strings that vibrate with the melodies of my soul. But this harp, delicate and unique, is attuned to only one touch—the touch of my Creator.

Each morning, I wake to the symphony of the world. The chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of life unfolding around me. These sounds weave together, creating a tapestry of peace and serenity that wraps around my weary soul. But it’s the music that truly brings me alive, a song that my Creator plays just for me.

When the day becomes heavy with burdens and worries, I find solace in the notes that drift through my mind. They remind me that I am not alone, that my Creator’s presence is as constant as the rhythm of my heartbeat. The music lifts me from the depths of despair, carrying me to a place of hope and renewal.

In moments of joy, the harp in my heart plays a jubilant tune, resonating with the love and gratitude that overflow within me. It is in these times that I feel closest to my Creator, connected by an invisible thread of harmony that transcends the physical world.

Each evening, as the sun sets and the world quiets down, I find myself listening to the gentle lullaby that soothes my soul. It is a song of reassurance, a reminder that no matter what challenges the day has brought, my Creator is here, gently playing the harp in my heart, guiding me to rest and peace.

Music, for me, is more than just a series of notes and rhythms. It is the language through which my Creator speaks to me, a divine communication that fills me with strength, comfort, and an unwavering sense of belonging. In every note, I find my well-being restored, my spirit renewed, and my heart filled with love.

0

“The Spirit of Metlakatla: Alexander’s Stand”

“A Tale of Courage and Heritage”

In the heart of Metlakatla, where the whispers of ancient Tsimshian spirits mingled with the rustling of the cedar trees, a fierce spiritual battle raged on. Alexander, a guardian of his town and its rich heritage, stood resolute. His eyes, reflecting the strength of his ancestors, scanned the horizon as he prepared for the fight of his life.

The town had always been a sanctuary, a place where history and culture thrived. But now, dark forces threatened to erase its essence. Shadows crept through the streets, seeking to sow discord and despair among the people. Yet, Alexander, with his unwavering faith and deep connection to the land, was determined to protect his home.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the waters, Alexander felt the presence of his ancestors. Their spirits, strong and resilient, surrounded him, lending their strength. He could hear their voices, a chorus of encouragement and wisdom, guiding him through the darkness.

With a heart full of courage, Alexander raised his staff, its carvings a testament to the stories and traditions of his people. He called upon the spirits of the land, the sea, and the sky, invoking their power to aid him in this battle. The air crackled with energy as the spirits responded, their presence a tangible force against the encroaching darkness.

The battle was fierce, but Alexander’s resolve never wavered. He fought not just with physical strength, but with the power of his spirit and the love for his community. Each strike of his staff was a declaration of his commitment to his town and its people. The shadows recoiled, unable to withstand the light of his determination.

As dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight pierced through the darkness, signaling the end of the battle. The shadows dissipated, retreating into the depths from which they came. Alexander stood victorious, his spirit unbroken. He had fought for his town, for his people, and had emerged triumphant.

The town of Metlakatla, bathed in the morning light, stood as a testament to the strength and resilience of its people. Alexander, with the spirits of his ancestors by his side, had ensured that their legacy would continue to thrive. The spiritual battle had been won, but the journey of preserving their heritage and culture would continue, guided by the unwavering spirit of their guardian.

Metlakatla, located on Annette Island in Alaska, is rich in heritage and culture, primarily of the Tsimshian people. Here are some key aspects of its heritage:

  1. Historical Significance: Metlakatla, meaning “saltwater passage,” was founded in 1887 by a group of Tsimshian people led by Anglican missionary William Duncan. They relocated from British Columbia seeking religious freedom1.
  2. Cultural Practices: The Tsimshian culture is vibrant and includes traditional song, dance, and arts. Longhouses, totem poles, and cedar bark baskets are significant cultural artifacts. The community often showcases these through performances and tours2.
  3. Language: The nearly extinct Sm’algyax language is an integral part of the Tsimshian heritage. Efforts are ongoing to preserve and revitalize this language through tribal performances and educational programs2.
  4. Community and Governance: The Metlakatla Indian Community (MIC) is the only Indian reserve in Alaska. Governed by the MIC Tribal Council, the community emphasizes self-governance, sustainability, and the preservation of their land and resources3.
  5. Historical Archives: Recently, Metlakatla launched a historical archive to preserve and share the stories and memories of its people. This initiative aims to ensure that future generations understand their heritage and the community’s history4.

Metlakatla’s heritage is a testament to the resilience and cultural richness of the Tsimshian people, reflecting their deep connection to the land and their commitment to preserving their traditions for future generations.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑